my nakedness. We both stop, and gasp. I’m completely naked as I stare at his swollen wet lips. He sets me down even though I am panting with need.
I’m naked, and he’s in his sweatpants and t-shirt. It’s a little one-sided to me.
“Damn it,” he growls, devouring me with his eyes.
“How is this going to work?”
He bends down, brushes his hand against my cheek. “We make it work,” he whispers, kissing me softly again, his lips pressing against mine as if they belong there. His hands caress my sides, flitting from my waist to my hips and back again. It’s sensual, and tickly, and I don’t want him to stop. I splay my hands across his chest as we kiss. There’s no urgency now, or desperation. This is an acceptance kiss, one that tells him I want this, I’m okay with it. The kiss that leads to other things. The kiss that is filled with anticipation, desperation and lust.
“Did you like my new yoga move”? I ask, trailing my tongue along his lower lip.
“Which one?” He nips at my lip playfully. “The one with your bottom up in the air? Or the one with you standing with a foot tucked against your thigh?”
“You were watching closely.” How is it that he’s so tender and soft now? Where’s the beast gone? The moody, surly man who skulks around?
“I couldn’t not stare at you. You’re impossible to ignore. God knows I tried.”
“Maybe you should have tried harder?” I clasp my arm around his neck and revel in the new thing we’ve not morphed into.
“I did try hard.”
His tongue delves into my mouth, explores, and duels. This is heady, like drinking a large glass of wine. My head feels light, my stomach jittery. I feel blessed that he is here, in my arms, kissing me. It’s all I’ve ever thought about since that day, and now that I know he wants me, the victory is sweet. I nip at his lips, before going for another long, slow, wet kiss. He groans then, and I feel his cock twitch against my belly. I’m have a stitch of clothing on, and yet it feels entirely natural.
“So, you waited up for me last night?” I ask, again, needing to hear how jealous he was.
“I hate that you went with him.”
“Jamie?”
“You looked so sexy in that dress.”
“If it helps you to know, I went to the party with him but it was you I thought of.”
This brings a smile to his face.
I touch his jaw, run my fingers over the sharp little hairs breaking through his skin. “I hated you.”
“Hated?” He kisses me. “Even now?”
“Would I hate you even now if we’re doing this?”
He kisses me again.
“Did you come to my room knowing this would happen?” I ask, our lips touching as we talk, his breath and mine mingling as if it is all one.
He holds my face with his hands as if this is extra important. “I came to apologize. I didn’t know you’d be wearing a towel.”
I slide my hand into his boxers and clasp my fist around his cock, pumping him gently, watching him wince and shiver. “You didn’t? What did you think I was going to do after my workout?”
“I didn’t think.” He lets out a shaky breath. I pump him some more. His cock grows and hardens in my hand.
“Having a problem getting your words out?” I tease.
He exhales again, his eyes flutter closed as I rub my thumb over his silky tip.
“I felt bad that you said you’d leave,” he manages to say. “I want you to stay.”
I assess his features, so strange to have him be this close to me. The last time we were like this it was under the spell of the thunder and lightning, in his dimly lit study. It felt not much different from a dream. This, now, in the cold light of day, this seems more real. More intense. More potent.
“You’ve played with my mind for weeks, and I need this.” I give an extra yank of his cock. He grabs my hand and stops me. “I will come if you keep that up.”
“I expected you to have more staying power.” His hand stays on my hand which is on his manhood. These close and intimate encounters, with my hands in his pants, fill me with an urgent need. He takes my hand and moves it away, but there’s no doubting the size of his hard-on and the fact that soon enough it will need